its dimensions are the length of a prairie night, traced by the trails of falling stars the instant your breath turns to crystal in the crackling cold of a winter morning pangs fading to grey ghosts like the towns
I am an aspiring Christian poet and writer. I have two amazing and terrifying children who have taught me more in the short time they have blessed my life than my many years of schooling. I am back to teaching full-time, but with a twist. I now teach online. It has been an interesting experience so far, but I am loving it! Ask me about it sometime.
"Don't be too harsh to these poems until they're typed. I always think typescript lends some sort of certainty: at least, if the things are bad then, they appear to be bad with conviction."
~Dylan Thomas, letter to Vernon Watkins, March 1938
4 comments:
its dimensions are the length of a prairie night, traced by the trails of falling stars
the instant your breath turns to crystal in the crackling cold of a winter morning
pangs fading to grey ghosts like the towns
Acme7 -- you have captured it well! Beautiful!
just an echo of your delineated melancholy (you lived there longer than i) -- the last line touched off ripples in my boyhood memories
There is nothing like a prarie sky. I love it blue but the sunset is even more amazing.
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